Nightmares and Pink Syrup
by Hypnogogia
Summary: Fluffy oneshot. Pyro wakes up in the middle of the night feeling ill. Thankfully, there's someone he can always go to. Pyro/Engie friendship.


_It was a bright and brilliant day, with a perfectly cloudless blue sky. The air was hot, hot enough to make Pyro sweat inside his suit even in the shade, and the desert was dry enough to fill his throat with dust. Still, he couldn't complain: their team was making wonderful progress. His flamethrower had sent countless enemies screaming their way to respawn, and Engie's guns had turned the control point into an impassable death-trap. _

_As long as that sentry gun stood, victory seemed a sure thing, and Pyro made sure to keep a close eye out for Spies as Engie worked. His vigilance paid off, as his eyes spotted a distant shimmer, barely visible amongst the heat haze. Instantly, his flamethrower roared into life, and he charged forwards. There was a brief sizzling, the scent of roasting flesh burning down into his lungs, and the Spy fell to the floor in a charred, twisted heap._

_ "Nice goin' partner!" Engie said with a smile._

_He held that haunting smile even as blood began to ooze from his mouth, and he pitched forwards into the dry desert sands with a knife embedded in his spine._

_Pyro yelped with surprise, and swung his flamethrower at thin air, turning in frantic circles as he fired at nothing. Finally, he came to an exhausted stop, panting heavily in the desert heat. And that was when the heat haze shimmered again._

_The Spy stepped out of nowhere, wearing the wide, wild smile you can only wear when your lips and cheeks have been scorched away. He still wore his mask, half-melted to his bubbling skin, looking at Pyro with piercing and empty sockets. When he stepped forwards, his charred skin split, letting out a torrent of ash._

_Pyro took a step back. Suddenly he wasn't holding his flamethrower anymore. Suddenly, he'd never had it in the first place. That burning Spy was still approaching, with crackling and leisurely footsteps, his mouth pouring smoke, flames dancing in his eye-sockets. Engie looked up at Pyro, his face a shrinking and twisting mass of leather, his roasted eyes melting out from under his goggles. Now the Spy's hands were around Pyro's neck, burning fingers digging into his throat. The desert floor had given away beneath their feet, and they were falling, falling into darkness at a dizzying speed, freezing air rushing past them, until they landed hard on a heap of charred skin and dusty bones. It took Pyro only a moment to notice the uniforms the bodies were wearing, to recognise their twisted faces, and realise that he was lying amid the remains of his own team._

_When they started to scream, he screamed too._

* * *

Pyro awoke face-down in what it took him a few panicked moments to realise was his own bed. His heart was thumping as though it was trying to escape his ribcage, and it took him a few more moments of shaking and clutching at Mr. Twinklehorn to fully dispel the nightmare. His face was burning as though he had just stepped in from the desert heat, and he was drenched in sticky sweat. Despite this, cold shivers danced up and down his spine, and made him shake fitfully. There was a painful pounding inside his head. This was matched by the swollen, painful feeling in his throat.

It was then that Pyro realised he wasn't feeling well at all.

He gave a gurgling sniffle. What remained of his nose was running like a faucet, and he wiped the stream on the sleeve of his pyjamas. His eyes felt heavy and watery, too. He rolled over, giving Mr. Twinklehorn a tight squeeze and pressing a burning cheek (what was left of it) against a fresh expanse of cool pillow, trying his best to get back to sleep. His attempt didn't last long. He couldn't get comfortable, not when he couldn't seem to find a sleeping position that didn't leave him either shivering or soaked in sweat. His head hurt terribly, and his throat felt like he'd swallowed a mouthful of pins, and his nose was somehow stuffed-up and running like a waterfall at the same time, and gosh, he felt terrible. His twisted mouth quivered, and his eyes became a touch more watery. He wanted his mummy, but she was miles and miles away, waiting for him in a little town in the middle of nowhere. A little town with a large scorch mark where the gas station should have been. A little town he couldn't go back to for quite a while.

He sat up, feeling a touch dizzy, and fumbled for the mask that rested on his nightstand. He slipped it on, the rubber cool against his face.

Thankfully, there was someone else he could go to.

* * *

The Engineer always kept a sentry going in his bedroom. At first it had been due to paranoia, the lingering fear that some enemy Spy would come creeping in whilst he was sleeping. Of course, the two teams had quickly settled into an uneasy sort of truce on their off hours, and aside from the odd grudge and the occasional incident now and then, they left each other alone outside of battle. No-one wanted to come home after a hard day's fighting and find a crater where their bed had been, after all. But the sentry still remained, it's gentle bleeping and whirring soothing the Engineer to sleep like no other lullaby could.

His room was dark and quiet, the only sounds his soft snoring, perfectly matching the rhythm of his sentry. A rhythm that was suddenly interrupted by a muffled knocking on his door.

The Engineer blinked blearily, and muttered the faintest curse under his breath as he swung his legs out of bed, and made his way to the door. He picked his wrench off the bedside table on the way. Just in case.

"Just a minute." He breathed, as he fumbled the door open. He was greeted by the sight of Pyro, standing on his doorstep in his all-in-one pyjamas, wrapped in a blanket, clutching a stuffed unicorn, and shivering fitfully. "Oh, Pyro. You okay, son?"

Pyro shook his head, and gave a sniff that rattled his mask slightly.

"Urr drrrnt frrrlll tuurrr grrrrd." He muttered, in the smallest, most pathetic little voice the Engineer had ever heard. He was also swaying slightly, he noticed.

"Got the sniffles, huh? Come in and sit yerself down, and I'll see what I can do to make you feel better."

Pyro gave a slightly more cheerful mumble, and sat down on the bed. The Engineer sat down besides him, and draped an arm across his shoulders. He wasn't entirely surprised when Pyro leaned rather heavily into his arms, and nuzzled his hot, rubbery head onto his shoulder.

"So, where's it hurt?"

"Mrr hrrrd." Pyro gestured to his mask. "Urrnd mrr thrrrt." He gestured to his neck.

"Well shoot, that's no fun for anyone." He reached out with the hand that was still made of flesh and blood, and rested it lightly on Pyro's mask. "And I ain't no doctor, but it feels like you're runnin' a temperature too."

Pyro gave a miserable little groan. The Engineer patted him on the head.

"Why doncha make yerself comfortable for a moment? I'll go getcha some water and somethin' for the fever, and if want to stay here tonight 'till you feel better, I daresay I can make room for you. Wouldn't mind the company myself."

Pyro brightened up a touch.

"Rrrly?"

"Sure thing. So long as you don't sneeze fire or anything."

"Thrrnks, Urrngrrr."

The Engineer found himself on the receiving end of a crushing hug, albeit one a little less bone-shattering than Pyro's usual greetings. He gave a squeeze back, before disentangling himself, and making his way over to the sink and cabinet in the corner of his room. He poured out a glass of water, and slid a bottle of sickly pink syrup out of the cabinet. The Engineer had always had trouble swallowing pills, not that he was inclined to let anyone but the Medic know about it.

"Here you go." He said, setting the water down on the bedside table. Pyro had tucked himself in, and was shivering slightly under the covers.

"Thrrnk yrr."

"Don't mention it." The Engineer carefully poured out a spoonful of medicine. "Now, I'm afraid you're gonna have to lift up your mask for this."

Pyro nodded, and fumbled with his mask, rolling it up just far enough to expose his twisted wreck of a mouth. Most of the lips, along with the majority of his left cheek, had been burned away entirely, exposing a set of skewed yellow teeth that looked slightly too large for his mouth. The scraps of lip that remained were swollen and distorted. Above that jagged scar of a mouth were the two raw little holes that were Pyro's nostrils, only a small nub of cartilage remaining of his nose. They were currently dripping rather profusely.

"Open wide."

Pyro obediently opened his mouth, exposing a long pink tongue, and swallowed the strawberry-scented syrup. The Engineer poured out another spoonful and a half, which were also dutifully swallowed. Pyro winced slightly at the taste. The Engineer passed him the water, which he slurped gratefully, holding the rim of the glass between his tongue and top teeth to compensate for his lack of lips.

"Th-thanks, Engie." He rasped. His voice was smoke-ravaged and hoarse, but for once un-muffled. "For the water, and the medicine, and for letting me stay."

"Not a problem." The Engineer replied, as Pyro fumbled the mask back down again. "That's what I'm here for. Now, can I getcha anything else?"

Pyro shook his head, masked and muffled again.

"Well then, I don't know about you, but I'm gonna try and get some shut-eye."

The switched the light off, and slid beneath the covers. His bed was small, company issue, and had never been designed to take two people, but he wouldn't have been an engineer if he didn't have a knack for solving problems. All they had to do was snuggle together and try not to wriggle too much, and they could just about sleep through the night without either of them falling out.

Pyro cuddled up against him, wrapping his arms around his waist and nestling his head against his chest. When he was healthy, Pyro gave off heat like a living hot water bottle. When he was sick he burned like a furnace, except for his surprisingly chilly feet, which were currently warming themselves on the Engineer.

The Engineer sighed. Tomorrow, they'd have to face the consequences of fighting with one team member down. Tomorrow, they'd have to worry about the bug spreading through the entire team. But for now, it was cosy under the covers.

"Goodnight Pyro." He whispered.

"Grrrdnuuurrt Uurrngurr." Came the soft, muffled reply.

Soon, two sets of snoring matched the rhythm of the sentry.


End file.
